


Smalls: Very Small Stories

by Vera



Category: Smallville
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-15
Updated: 2002-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:58:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>This is a very long page of very short stories that I wrote during Smallville season one.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Smalls: Very Small Stories

** [Not A Virgin](http://www.livejournal.com/users/copracat/6093.html) **

 

His life wasn't the same, at sixteen, as yours. There's a whole world of experience he has, you suspect he has, that you will never know, first or second hand.

You've only ever seen him with supermodels, women who could be supermodels, tall and beautiful, sleek, worldly and experienced.

You don't even know for sure that he likes men, but you're pretty sure he likes you.

Mostly, you don't want him to know you're a virgin. Unless virgins turn him on. But you don't think it matters because you don't plan on being a virgin for much longer.

  


** [Sprung](http://www.livejournal.com/users/copracat/3649.html) **

 

"Get out."

Lex wasn't moving, frozen in the headlight glare of Jonathan Kent's rage. Clark was about to speak but Jonathan cut him off.

"Get out before I throw you out. "

"Dad, please -"

"Shut up, Clark. Lex, go. Now."

Lex shrugged his jacket on over his disarrayed shirt. Brushing past Jonathan stiffly, he headed out the kitchen door.

"Lex, wait!" Clark started to follow, stopped by his father's hand briefly laid flat on his bare chest, snatched away quickly.

"You." Temper tightened Jonathan's voice. "You aren't going anywhere."

From the other side of the fly screen door, his back to them but head turned to Clark, Lex said, "Call me." Then he was gone.

"What do you think you were doing? In our living room? Like this? What if your mother had found you? With him?"

"Dad -"

"I've never been so disappointed, Clark. I expect more responsible behavior from you. "

"Dad -"

"We raised you better than this, son."

"Better than what, Dad? Better than gay? Maybe everyone where I'm from is gay? I'm a gay, alien freak."

"Clark!"

He was gone in a blur that made Jonathan's eyes feel twisted, the kitchen door banging in the breeze of his passing.

Standing alone in the house, Jonathan wished for greater wisdom, for a slower temper, for Martha to get home and tell him how he should have handled finding their son and Lex Luthor getting naked on the sofa.

He slapped his open hand on the kitchen table, hard.

"Damn."

  


** [Clark's Coming Out Of The Graveyard](http://www.livejournal.com/users/copracat/519.html) **

 

He's standing in the dark looking up at the castle. There's one light on, one bright window against its looming bulk. He's not worried. He knows the way. He's inside as quick as thinking it and moving up to the floor with the lighted window. A sharp line of thin light in the dark corridor marks the room he wants. He's inside now, by the lamp by Lex's chair. Lex is asleep, hand splayed across a book on his lap. Head turned toward Clark, lashes brushing pale cheeks. Shallow breath through parted lips. Clark can see the uneveness of skull, fine bone covered with tender skin. Suddenly it seems ridiculous, standing here and Lex making him think of Jack o' Lanterns. Empty eyes and hollow skulls. He resolves to touch, reaches out.

Lana is standing on the other side of the armchair, smiling, sweet and dark. "Dad wants to know if you're upset about a boy."

Falling, light is all around and his mother's voice. The bedside clock reinforces late, late, late.

At school, he tries to avoid catching Lana's eye but from across the room she's insistent. Wants to smile at him. Wants to acknowledge their secret. Graveyard confessions.

There's no escape in work. He's asked to read aloud in class. Falters over Ill met by moonlight and can't see the page for tombstones.

After school, Chloe and Pete drag him to the Beanery. Through the window he watches cars drive by. Dusty trucks, family sedans, they're all useful, working vehicles driven with care because tools are to be respected and because they carry precious things. Not money, though that's also to be respected, but family, friends, life. The only life he knows.

"Do you know what you want, Clark?"

I don't want.

"Clark!"

What?

Pete and Chloe are both looking at him, Chloe snapping her fingers under his nose. The waitress is doing that tapping pencil thing by their booth, bored and anxious.

"Clark, what do you want?"

What do I want?

He wishes he didn't know.

  


** [Barn](http://www.livejournal.com/users/copracat/34087.html?thread=57639#t57639) **

It's hot in the barn. The loft door catches a small breeze; Clark is positioned to make the most of it, shirtless and still. It would be cooler below in the dark but less comfortable, less private, no warning when someone approaches. The sound of a footfall on a step always makes him check his fly now. He's become aware that his parents approach slowly and call out when they come up to the loft these days. He doesn't like to think why that may be. Perhaps they're just respectful of his privacy.

  


** [Obsessed](http://www.livejournal.com/users/copracat/34353.html) **

Clark doesn't like the word virgin. Specifically, he doesn't like the word virgin applied to himself. He's pretty sure boys can't really be virgins.

Lana is probably -- but then Whitney was leaving for the Marines which is more manly and grown up than being a football hero. He wishes Whitney didn't look like the son his Dad was supposed to have.

He thinks Pete's a virgin because Pete would have told him or, at least, dropped unmistakable hints if he wasn't. Chloe's a virgin, Chloe has to be.

Sometimes he wonders when Lex lost his virginity. He wonders who, and wishes that Lex was just a few years younger, more Chloe, less Lana, less rich, less indebted to Clark for his life.

  


** [Drawer](http://www.livejournal.com/users/copracat/29196.html) **

 

The thing is Lex understood Amy. Obsession? He knew what that was. Icons, images and symbols: he collected them, too. There were the big ones, the "it doesn't the fuck matter the size of my dick" symbols, also known as the cars. There were his mother's gifts and their attendant lessons. And there was the drawer. It had a small, plain key that he kept on his personal keyring, unlike the keys kept by the chauffeur and the keys kept by the housekeeper. The key alone wouldn't open the drawer, however. You had to press here and there in the right order, then the drawer would open.

He didn't open it very often - only rarely to contemplate its contents, less often to add to it. It contained the keys to a car that had met a watery grave, a video cassette, a CD neatly labeled Simulation 9.5, a polaroid of a dark-haired boy loading a truck with sacks of feed, and a small chip of dull, green rock.

  


** [Storm Cellar ](http://www.livejournal.com/users/copracat/23671.html) **

 

Lex is sitting on the floor of the storm cellar, knees bent, hands by his sides, his clothing grimy. Smallville is the death of suits, he thinks. Clark, standing beside him, is shifting from foot to foot. His brain is trying to tell him his tailbone hurts. Storm cellar floors are unforgivingly not soft, not carpeted and not warm. Perfect, it seems, for spaceship storage. Small, round, shining in the low light: Clark's spaceship. He's going to throw up. He's going to cry. He's going to come.

"Lex, are you okay?"

  


[ **Bed** ](http://www.livejournal.com/users/copracat/23517.html)

Being in bed with another person is Clark's new favourite thing. The way the air under the blankets grows warm and fragrant, the heat of another body cuddled up to him, it's the best. He's not sure he ever wants to sleep alone again. A pity, since he'll have to sleep alone tonight and tomorrow night and every night until he leaves home. Somehow he just can't imagine his dad being cool with a sleep-over. This kind of sleep-over. For now, he has winter afternoons in Lex's big bed. Sex instead of lunch, then a nap (passing out) and then waking (coming to) with Lex wrapped around him and they'll do it all again until Clark's stomach growls for food and they have to raid the kitchen.

  


** [What Would Lex Do?](http://www.livejournal.com/users/ladyvyola/25187.html?thread=47203#t47203) **

Clark had once asked him why he needed so much food, since there was only one of him. There was some blushing when he pointed out the mouths he had to feed: the housekeeper and her family, the gardener, the chauffeur. He liked Clark blushing. He liked Clark, but was sometimes unsettled by such an unsophisticated desire. Attraction was supposed to make you think of lube, leather and expensive hotel rooms, not apples, denim and hay lofts.


End file.
